ABSTRACT
It all begins with a Felix Culpa. A happy fault, a blessed wound. Blessed.This is what St Augustine tells us in his Confessions. The remarkable fortunes of this thematics of the wound are well known in the work of the other Augustine, James Joyce, but maybe less perceptible or explicit in other notable texts. In Proust it is buried, one must exhume it. For Genet the wound is the founding secret of all major creation.
